


Sam's Room

by NobleHouseOfBlack



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Feel-good, M/M, Nightmares, No Dialogue, Platonic Cuddling, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-15 19:15:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17534591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NobleHouseOfBlack/pseuds/NobleHouseOfBlack
Summary: Sam's room in the bunker didn't seem like his room. He slept there occasionally but there was nothing that would indicate he lived there.





	Sam's Room

**Author's Note:**

> I've been going through my old stories lately to polish and publish them. This one was inspired by when Sam told Cas to go to his room and watch some Netflix. Let me know if you like it!

Sam’s room wasn’t exactly a  _ room  _ quite yet. It was a room that Sam slept in, sure, but there was really no indication that anybody  _ lived _ in that room. The walls were grey and dull, completely smooth and unblemished. The shelves were dusted but it was clear nothing had really been moved in a while. Decades old items still lay here and there, as if their original owner was going to come back for them. Sam slept in that room but he didn’t live in that room.

It’s not that Sam didn’t like the room - he enjoyed it immensely, actually. The bed was large enough for his giant frame and was extremely comfortable. There was plenty of space to move around, it was heavily warded, and was always the right temperature. It was a perfect room, really. Sam’s problem wasn’t exactly with the room itself, it was simply the idea of having a room of his own; a place to call home.

From when he was a baby until his late teens, Sam pretty much always shared a bed with Dean. They didn’t talk about it, really, they didn’t even question it. Not even when dad hadn’t been there so there was no reason to share a bed. There really was no reason for Sam to be crawling into Dean’s bed at age sixteen. But Sam didn’t like being alone. He liked having someone with him, just their mere presence was comforting. Besides, Dean had always been safety to him. Dean had always been his home.

Then he went to Stanford and his sense of security vanished. There were suddenly creatures he didn’t know about lurking in the dark, there were cold fingers wrapping around his ankles when a foot slipped over a too small mattress. He had nobody to hide against for protection. All he had was the cold barrel of a gun that he would hold every single night. But then he found Jess and her warmth kept him safe every single night. He had decorated that room then, with Jess assisting him, mostly with pictures of them both or little accomplishments. But that room felt unique and it felt like home. It was theirs and it was perfect. But then it was torn away from him.

It got worse after Jess died. He couldn’t sleep really and he knew he wasn’t allowed to slip into Dean’s bed anymore. There was something different about them then, a little rift that Sam had caused when he left. He didn’t complain, though, because he knew it was his fault. He learned to handle it on his own, though, despite never feeling fully rested. Alcohol helped on occasion, but Sam wasn’t a big fan of getting wasted so he only drank as a last resort. Motel room after motel room, different bed after different bed, all foreignly familiar and almost exactly the same. He didn’t have a home with four walls; he had Dean and he had the impala. But he didn’t have a place for escape. His head tortured him every night with nightmares, with self-loathing thoughts, with flashbacks. He threw himself into research harder than ever before and Sam quickly found a good way to deal with his insomnia: if he read and read for as long as he could manage, he would pass out from exhaustion and practically blackout in his dream land - which meant no nightmares and no bad thoughts. It was the best solution he could come up with. Dean thought he was just a nerd and as far as Sam was concerned, Dean didn’t need to know anything else. Plus, it meant he was learning, anyways, so it was worth it.

He still didn’t like sleeping alone but as the years went by and the job got harder, he learned to deal with it. Case after case had Sam finding more and more nightmare material. Don’t even mention Hell, sometimes his exhausted brain made those worse. It was harder and harder to hide his issues sleeping before coming to the bunker. Now that they had separate rooms, however, he was able to hide his lack of sleep much better than he was before. He wasn’t sure why his nightmares were getting worse. They were staying in the Men of Letters bunker but he wasn’t sure for how long. It was well protected, not well known, and well hidden, so he assumed a while. But why make it his own when it was only going to get torn away from under his feet again? He never had a stable home, he had the one with Jess that got destroyed. He had a temporary one with Amelia but he knew he didn’t belong there, not really. So how long until this one was gone, too?

So here he was, months after moving in, and Sam still hadn’t unpacked his duffel bag. He almost always fell asleep in the library or on the couch, just because it was easier to pass out unknowingly instead of attempting to sleep. On the rare occasion he  _ did  _ fall asleep in his room, the TV had to be on. Just noise was a comfort, even if there wasn’t another presence anywhere close by. Dean was down the hall, seemingly miles away. Sam had a panic attack their very first night - even if him and Dean didn’t share a bed, they’ve always shared a room. Now it was different, he was completely and utterly alone. The room seemed colder when he was by himself at night, which reminded him of Lucifer and that was never a good setting to fall asleep. It’s why his room usually ran much warmer than the rest of the bunker.

But then Castiel came along to actually stay with them. He was sick and Sam was worried about him. Even though Cas had never really liked him as much as he liked Dean, Sam was still in awe over him. They had an  _ angel  _ for a friend, Cas was beyond amazing, he had seen humans get created! Sam would love to ask for stories but he never wanted to bother the angel. He was an abomination, after all, the boy with the demon blood and all that jazz. He was the failure and Dean was the successful one, the one everybody liked. He was just Sam, Dean’s annoying little brother that followed his brother like a lost puppy.

Except, Cas wasn’t like that anymore. He was binge watching Netflix and eating peanut butter, despite not being able to taste it properly anymore. He ate chips and got crumbs on himself, then pouted because crumbs are not fun to have all pressed against skin. And Cas, well, Cas was there. Sam’s room had Netflix and a large, comfortable bed. Besides, Dean was weird about people touching his stuff so Cas would prefer to watch TV in Sam’s room. Normally, Cas would try to leave when Sam entered his room, but Sam never complained. In fact, Sam would encourage him to finish. Besides, he was always so close to finishing his episode or the season, so he’d stay.

Sam was secretly grateful. He slept better with Cas there and Cas knew it, too. Although, Cas never let on that he knew. Everybody could tell Sam was sleeping better. He wasn’t as snappy with Dean when Dean was being ignorant, he didn’t have such dark bags under his eyes, and he actually smiled most of the day. Dean didn’t know what it was but Cas knew - Cas always knew. Sam made sure not to touch Cas when he fell asleep, he didn’t want to make the angel uncomfortable, so he crowded to one side of the bed to be as far from Cas as he could. Like clockwork every single morning, however, Sam would wake up with his head pressed in the angel’s stomach, arms thrown lazily around Cas’ torso, and legs tangled together. Usually, long fingers carded through his hair without hesitation, just rhythmically scratching at his scalp. At first, Sam flew away as fast as he could, face dark red in embarrassment and shame. But as it started to happen more and more, he wouldn’t pull away so fast. And every single morning that it happened, Sam would wake up with a shadow of a smile on his face with no trace of a nightmare on his sleep wrinkled face.

Of course, the rare instance that he had a nightmare, Cas would do his best to help him. Usually, he could take it away with a touch of his fingers. If Sam knew he did that, he’d likely be furious that Cas was wasting his grace on him but Cas was more than willing. Sam fascinated him. At first, he believed everything Heaven told him about the boy with the demon blood. But as he got to know Sam more and more, he was always surprised by the gentle soul he was faced with. Cas expected a twisted, dark soul, reminiscent of Lucifer’s grace from when he fell. Instead, he saw one of the brightest souls he had ever witnessed - much more like Lucifer’s grace when he was still in Heaven. Lucifer was the morningstar, after all, he was the brightest angel ever created. Sam was very much like that. Cas was selfish in the way he would suck it up every night, marveling at the soul. It had the slightest tinge of darkness from his time in hell but miraculously it was still so bright, despite the damage it no doubt endured.

Slowly, Sam’s room looked more broken in. There were half finished books scattered about the room. Sam’s duffel was under the bed, packed for an emergency only, and the rest of his clothes were freshly folded in his dresser. There were pictures scattered about the room, some of him and Dean, one of Team Free Will, and one very special one of him and Cas on his nightstand. His new bedspread - a stupid bee one that Dean got Cas as a joke but it made Cas so happy that Sam put it on his bed every single time without fail - was almost always rumpled, no matter how hard Sam tried to smooth it out, one of them always destroyed it soon after it had been pressed. There were papers scattered on the desk with a corkboard of research hung just above it. There were even a few feathers from when Cas’ wings were hurt by angels and he retreated to Sam’s room to heal and preen - to the room he felt most safe in. 

But the best new addition to Sam’s room, the one thing that made it truly feel like home, was Cas leaning against the headboard while he pet Sam’s head, which lay in his lap. Eventually, the TV would fade to white noise in the background as Cas told Sam stories about his life. Sam was the most adept listener but Cas’ soft voice always lulled him to sleep, though the angel never stopped his story for as long as Sam slept. 

And, as Sam looked around their very own room, he’s never felt more at home.


End file.
